


Songs of Rhaegar

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaegar "writes the songs that makes the whole world sing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darth_invader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_invader/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his fiftieth namesday, Rhaegar sings a song he composed for this special occasion.

Rolling his eyes at the frou frou decorations and the sheer opulence, swags of black, red and gold, golden chains of rubies hanging from the chandeliers, Jon felt like he must be adopted. He was the polar opposite of both of his parents. While his father, the King, favored ornate dragon embroidered jackets atop his white ruffled silk shirts and tight black leather pants with embroidered flames seemingly licking the side of his pants, Jon favored black homespun tunics and pants, the plainer the better as they would just get dirty anyways. His mother, the King's second wife, burned hot, her temperament was so impulsive, wild and feral even. Lyanna was quick to anger and unfortunately slow to forgive. Jon was quiet, shying away from attention that both of his parents, his siblings, and almost all of his relatives, even his Stark relatives, craved with the notable exception of his gentle lady wife, who has refused to wear the daring Southern dresses, and her taciturn father Ned.

It was his father's fiftieth namesday. That meant seemingly endless performances of bards singing about all of the great deeds his father has done. He was proud of his father and his wise leadership, but was highly embarrassed at being seated at the high table next to him as the King elegantly ate the many delicacies that the royal kitchen has expertly concocted while he tried hard to not scarf them all down. Jon felt like all eyes were on him, seeing how he was a lesser man in comparison to his beautiful and debonair father and his equally beautiful silver maned half siblings who sat on the other side of their father, with their mothers, Queen Consorts Elia and Lyanna sitting at a lower table behind them. Luckily, his lady wife was next to him, somehow comforting him with her more subdued appreciation of the performers in sharp contrast to Aegon's exuberant cheers. He thought it was somewhat curious as he thought she loved song and stories of love and heroes.

He looked back at his mother who looked angry, being relegated in the lower table with Elia, the wife that his father effectively put aside to her relief (Elia was in love with her Dornish guard). It was a well known weakness of his father his love for beauty like his mother - well it was to everyone else but him until just recently. When he was a year younger and finally heard rumors of how his father stole his mother, he was distraught and angrily questioned his father. He thought his father was wrong to take another wife when he was married to a fine lady. He thought it was pure greed, that his father wanted too much, what he could not have. He was heartened for his mother's sakes upon hearing his father's explanation of the differences between true love (his relationship with his mother) and a political marriage (his relationship with his stepmother) and his great respect for his wives, both fine ladies.

Recently his mother was in a foul mood, easily angered, and his wife had to slowly explain to him that there were unfounded rumors among the Court that another more beautiful and younger lady has captured the purple eyes of his father. Many in the Court mistakenly thought it was Lady Margaery of the House Tyrell, who preened and flitted about in obscenely flimsy silk dresses. Jon thought she was pretty, but there was an off-putting falseness to her, that her seemingly merry eyes hid many secrets - she was not to be trusted. Her family made no secret of their ambitions as even he noticed that she was always too close to his father's side, to his mother's growing ire which was further exasperated when Jon unhelpfully pointed out she now had grey hairs. But Jon thought that rose princess' pretty looks were naught compared to the exotic dark looks of his stepmother Elia and the still striking beauty of his mother. 

Others pointed to Lady Cersei as his father's new lover. She was still magnificent, albeit a brittle kind of beauty - her eyes were cold and bitter and her lush lips was in a permanent sneer ever since she married Robert Baratheon, an obese and mean drunk. But his wife assured him that Father did not choose Cersei before when she was at the height of her beauty and unattached, it was unlikely she would be his new paramour. 

Jon knew that he was biased but none of the ladies were as beautiful as his lady wife. Her mother slightly resembled her with her lovely red hair, clear blue eyes and creamy complexion, but there was a hard edge and cynicism to Lady Catelyn that he thought was missing in his sweet and playful wife.

Finally, the performances by the musicians and bards came to an end. His father walked onto the center stage, thanking the artists for their spirited performances. The King had written a song that he dedicated to the ladies he loved before and that he love still. His father winked, and like the rest of the Court, Jon turned to see which lady his father was winking to. A few ladies near his lady wife tittered, enjoying his father's attentions, but what was curious was the dark blush that started to bloom on his wife's face. His wife, Sansa, must be scandalized at his father's too forward behavior. He would need to talk to his father about her delicate constitution - she was more Tully, more southern, than Stark.

The Court began to gasp at his scandalous lyrics, especially when the King crooned "To all the girls I once caressed and the girls I want to caress" and "To all the girls who I want to share my life Who are now someone else's wife." 

He noticed his wife's lovely body stiffen, and the blush had spread down her neck to the tiny expanse of her chest that was almost covered by her chaste Northern style dress which matched his mother's dress. Her lovely blue eyes were lowered, with her long lashes seemed to be moist, and she began to shake almost imperceptively. His father was scandalizing his wife, making her cry in embarrassment, and Jon noticed that he has also enraged her father who was being barely held back by her mother and her uncle Benjen. It was not a particularly good song - why was his good father Ned so angry? 

The King moved closer and closer to the high table, and Jon alarmedly looked at his half sister. They were Targaryens afterall and siblings did wed, but this, a father fucking his daughter who was betrothed to his son, seemed so wrong and unnatural. But Princess Rhaenys wasn't even paying any attention but instead was giggling at one of Prince Aegon's many jokes. 

He saw his lady wife almost spilled her goblet full of wine as his father finally reached their table and crowned his wife his Queen of Love and Beauty! He knew that his father took special interest in his wife, entertaining her when Jon spent numerous hours training, oft giving her private harp lessons and touring the Keep with her, making her feel at home. But this, this seemed too much!! 

Before he knew it or could even move, Lady Sansa stood up and held up his father's hand and led him to his wives. 

As they drew near to amused Elia and furious Lyanna, his lady wife clearly announced, "Dearest Father, your aging eyes have clearly failed you. I am not Lyanna, your forever Queen of Love and Beauty."

She ceremoniously handed the blue rose crown to the King and quickly returned to her husband's side. Nodding to the nearest bard that the Tyrells brought with them, she signaled him to begin singing, and the blue haired man docilely began to sing loudly.

He faintly heard his mother's angry voice and was about to turn around like his siblings but his wife held him and quietly snorted, "All will be well. Your father wanted to make your mum jealous with that ridiculous song!"

He thought he heard a sharp slap and then some fierce whisperings of how he deserved that for trying to trick her, how beautiful his Queen was, that there was always only her for him, that she was silly to think otherwise; then giggles from both his parents; and finally wet passionate kisses and loud moans. His siblings quickly turned back around with their eyes shocked. Meanwhile, his lady wife was smiling, blushing so sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second deadly sin is greed.
> 
> I have to face palm but I realized just today that I only wrote drabbles for six of the seven deadly sins. Obviously, math is not my strength (lol!!!).
> 
> I really struggled with this one, and frankly it is more about envy than anything.
> 
> It was inspired by Willie Nelson and the song, "To All the Girls I Loved Before". I tweaked one of the lyrics.


	2. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar writes another song, a song for a lovely Stark princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for queen_naerys.
> 
> She wanted a continuation - some sort of romance.

It seemed so simple at first.

He wanted to give his lady wife a gift, a gift that she would like and that expressed how much he loved her.

It was so much easier getting something for the only other lady he truly loved, his mother. Lyanna loved the saddle he had made for her, the double swords, the thin leather riding gloves, and the vambraces. Basically he got things he wanted, knowing that she generally liked the same things he did.

But while Sansa did not share in his interest for riding horses or swords, she meant so much to him. Many mistakenly that theirs would be an unhappy marriage because of their vast differences, her always smiling and so full of grace and him so serious (although significantly less brooding since they wed) and a bit clumsy, that she was better suited for his more charming brother and that he was better suited for her sister, who was so like his fiery mother. But they were so wrong.

There was such grace and kindness and patience in her - she was this bright light that he was like a moth, so attracted to her. When he was not training, he would sit by her, just listening to her entertaining tales, her wickedly funny impersonations of everyone in court (the best ones being her accurate impersonation of Margaery hanging on his father's every word and Stannis scowling and grinding his teeth everytime his drunk brother was nearby). He also loved to hear her sing, especially her songs of love that he knew she was singing only for him. And he loved watching her sew, amazed at her detailed embroidery and how sure and true her fingers were in making his fine doublets and shirts.

But when Jon went to the markets, he could not find anything that would be perfect for his lovely wife. Nothing could even match her beauty. Everything seemed to pale in comparison. He wanted to find something as special as her.

Frustrated, he turned to his siblings for help. The dressmakers his sister brought to him made such titillating small clothes and dresses that he could not even lift his eyes to see them without blushing, imagining his voluptuous wife in such scant clothing. His brother had an artisan bring him finely woven whips and tiny harnesses but he protested that his wife did not like horses to the amusement of both his brother and the artisan. When he found that they were for a different type of riding, he almost choked and ran out of the room. From that moment on, he could not look at his siblings without blushing.

It was getting closer to the day they were wed, and he had nothing but a promise from the cook to make some lemoncakes for his love.

Finally, Jon went to his father. He knew that he should come to him before as Rhaegar and Sansa were very close, to the point that his mother at first was threatened by Sansa until she realized that theirs was a purely platonic friendship. His father would know what she would like. After hearing his father's first idea (a portrait of Jon in the nude), he was ready to give up. But his father just chuckled and hugged him, telling him that it was just a joke.

"My dear son, you look like you just ate an entire lemon... This is not a time to be sad - this is a time to rejoice. You are a fortunate man - it has almost been a year since you were wed to a beautiful Stark princess. I know you are happy with your lovely lady as I know that she is happy," Rhaegar chortled.

Jon blushed deeply again. Did Sansa share with her best friend the intimate details of their marital bed, the absolute delight that he took with her and learned to give to her? But then Jon realized that his wife would never do such a thing, he trusted her implicitly, knowing that she would never betray him. His father was teasing him again.

His father guffawed. But then he saw the discomfort he gave to his son and stopped. He lifted his son's jaw and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Jon, you know that anything you give her she would love for you, her love, gifted it to her," Rhaegar quietly said.

"Father, but I want to give her something special, something that only she has."

His father smiled gently. "But you already have given her that, you gave her your heart as I have given mine to your mother. She knows that."

Jon looked despondently down as while that was true, even in the very first weeks of their marriage in which he could not do anything right, tearing her pretty dresses in throes of passion, he had yet to tell her. He tried to tell her but everytime he tried, he ended fumbling with his words. Last night, he called her bare feet extremely cold as he was attempting to tell her that he wanted to warm them up with kisses. Because of his ill chosen words, she had resorted to wearing thick itchy woolen stockings which she refused to remove. He was a fool! It was his wish that his gift showed her how much he loved her, respected her and trusted her.

"Jon, you did not tell her?" Rhaegar asked.

He shook his head sadly.

His father embraced him and kissed his youngest on top of his head. "You can tell her in a song, a song that you wrote for her."

"But I don't sing and can't write songs." And he saw his father smiling widely and understood that his father would help him.

"I can sing and help you write your ode to Sansa. I need your help in writing the song. Tell me what you think of when you think of Sansa."

Jon blushed again, thinking of her with him last night.

His father laughed again and said, "Maybe not the first, second or even third thing you think when you think of your wife."

Scrunching his head, brows creased, Jon blurted, "Lemons."

"You mean the color yellow, right? Like the rays of the sun."

Jon nods and then blurts, "Little bird as she is always singing like a bird."

"Good, good. And?"

"I love her eyes and her smile."

"This is wonderful. I will have something drafted tonight, but I do think you should sing or, at the very least, read it to her. It would mean so much more if you told her in private."

"But..."

"Do you want her happiness? Aye, then you will do this. I solemnly promise that the words will reflect your true love for your sweet girl."

Later that night, he unrolled the parchment which was bound by a lovely saphire necklace, the color of Sansa's eyes. The necklace was a gift from his mother. He read the words his father wrote, and his eyes teared. It was just perfect - he should never doubt his father, never again would he roll his eyes when his father sang sappy love songs to his mum. But he did not know if he could speak the words, the words that were in his heart that he was to shy to utter.

His father and his mother arranged for his wife and him to have a private dinner with all of their favorite dishes. The food tasted wonderful but the company was even better. Sansa was so lovely, lovelier it seemed every day. She laughed at his attempts of jokes as well as his recounting about the day he had with his siblings, both flushing bright red at embarrassment about the harness his brother purchased for himself after he tried it on. When he hand-fed her the lovely lemoncakes the cook made and heard her moan with pleasure, he wanted to kiss her so much. And she, so attuned to him, kissed him such sugary lemony kisses.

Finally, they were done and retired to their room. With shaking hands, he put the necklace on her neck. Her smile at the gift made him so happy. He knew that he could be brave, like his father and his fierce mum. Breathing deeply, he took out the scroll and read it aloud. As he read the words, he felt her hugging him, crying with such joy and kissing him.

"Sansa, I love you. You are my sun."

Her smile was even more dazzling, and her face was wet with tears. 

She replied, "And you are my love. You do not have to try to win my heart - it is forever yours. You are mine and I, yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an excerpt of the poem from John Hartley that I imagined Rhaegar wrote and Jon recited to Sansa with two edits - "Be my little Valentine" is changed to "Be my sweet one, only mine" and "which seemed famous fun" is replaced with "such dire emotion".
> 
> "Winsome, wee and witty,  
> Like a little fay,  
> Carolling her ditty  
> All the livelong day,  
> Saucy as a sparrow  
> In the summer glade,  
> Flitting o'er the meadow  
> Came the little maid.  
> A youth big and burly,  
> Loitered near the stile,  
> He had risen early,  
> Just to win her smile.  
> And she came towards him  
> Trying to look grave,  
> But she couldn't do it,  
> Not her life to save.  
> For the fun within her,  
> Well'd out from her eyes,  
> And the tell-tale blushes  
> To her brow would rise.  
> Then he gave her greeting,  
> And with bashful bow,  
> Said in tones entreating,  
> 'Darling tell me now,  
> You are all the sunshine,  
> This world holds for me;  
> Be my little valentine,  
> I have come for thee.'  
> But she only tittered  
> When he told his love,  
> And the gay birds twittered  
> On the boughs above;  
> He continued pleading,  
> Calling her his sun--  
> Said his heart was bleeding,--  
> Which seemed famous fun.  
> Then he turned to leave her.  
> But she caught his hand,  
> And its gentle pressure  
> Made him understand,  
> That in spite of teasing,  
> He her heart had won,  
> And through life hereafter,  
> She would be his sun."


	3. Somewhere over the rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next day when Sansa confronts Rhaegar about his role in the night before. In the end, they make beautiful music together.

The very next morning Sansa had to refrain from giggling when she broke fast with the Royal family.

She could not look at her good brother and sister without blushing, thinking of the stories her husband told her last night about the tiny whips and the lacy and almost transparent corsets and small clothes. And the knowing looks and secret smiles of her good father and good mother were just too much! She saw that her lovely and perfect husband felt it too, as he ate quickly without even opening his eyes. Sansa had to help him with his drink, so that it wouldn't spill all over him.

When Rhaegar walked her to the music room for their morning harp lessons, she felt like she was floating on air as she lightly skipped, holding his arm.

She was so euphoric! It mattered naught that Jon forgot their actual date they wed or the date they first were introduced to each other or the date they were betrothed or the date of their first kiss - it was close enough! Perhaps the Targaryens had a different calendar - she simply did not care!

Once they entered the room, Rhaegar snorted affectionately at his good daughter, at her antics. Normally she was such a proper lady, gracefully and slowly gliding through the keep, with a serene and gentle smile on her beautiful face; but today she was bouncing with such joy and excitement, with a dazzling smile on her glowing face.

"My dear, my little flame, did you have a nice evening with your husband?" Rhaegar asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Sansa held his hands and proceeded to twirl with him around the music room, as she hummed her favorite songs of love. The dappled sunlight beaming through the windows lit her hair afire. He had to laugh at her exuberance! Letting go of one of her hands, he twirled her around and then dipped her to her amusement.

"I had a wonderful evening!" she happily exclaimed. She wanted to crow so loudly so that all could hear that Jon loved her and she loved him!

Even before that night, Sansa knew that Jon cared deeply for her - he showed that in his actions, his love for her, and not only his sweet moves in bed but his actions outside of it. Because he trained so early in the morning, he was always so mindful of her sleep, for she was grumpy in the morning, even bathing in the common bathing room for fear of waking her. He always shared his desserts with her as sweets were her weakness. Knowing her love for learning, he encouraged her interests and made sure that while he was training and when she was not otherwise occupied, she received instruction for prominent maesters in the fields she was most interested in - history, medicine, and astronomy. And he made her feel heard, listening intently to her stories.

Her husband was similar to her father, quiet, reserved and serious, rather than his own father who was known for his wit and his love of song. In terms of appearance and personality, many commented that she and Jon were like spitting images of her parents - her with her bright Tully red locks and clear blue eyes and him with his grey eyes and dark hair - even though she was no southron lady, being born and raised in the North, and he no Northerner, being born, raised and even squired in the South.

Yet even though her parents were so different, she knew that they loved and respected each other. After her betrothal to Jon and briefly meeting him, Sansa asked her mother for advice. Her pragmatic mother advised her to be patient and love will come - if not with her husband then with their children. Sansa also watched her parents' interactions and saw how her father showed with his actions his care for her mother and how her mother noticed and appreciated his thoughtful acts and, in turn, took care of him.

Sansa thought she understood Jon's affection and care for her even though Jon never spoke of it and did not speak the flowery words she heard others speak to their love. She did not truly need to hear him say those words - it did not mean that theirs were any lesser relationship than that of his parents or that of his siblings or that of her parents. And she thought that she would be content with their marriage, that her love for him was enough. But yet when he spoke of his love for her last night, it meant so much as his eyes were so full of warmth as he said those words. He read to her a beautiful poem - his deep voice cracked with emotions he felt for her. Jon said that she was his sun. Her heart felt like it was bursting again with so much happiness.

Wait - the words of the poem, the phrasing and the cadence, they sounded familiar.

Sansa quickly twirled about and pointed her finger and poked Rhaegar's chest.

"Rhaegar, you, you, you!" she sputtered.

"Yes, me, me, mi, do, re, miiii," Rhaegar started to sing, waving his hands dramatically upon his person.

Shaking her red little head, Sansa snorted at his silly antics. Still pointing her finger, she accused him,"I know you helped Jon."

Smiling bemusedly, he replied, "Of course, I have helped my son - that is what fathers do. They guide their sons, listen to them and help them understand what is right."

Looking down, she recalled last night - the wonderful private dinner with her favorite dishes, the tray of lemoncakes, the necklace and the poem. Perhaps Jon would have thought of the lemoncakes, but the rest were obviously the plans and works of others, namely Rhaegar.

Suddenly, the euphoria faded, and she visibly deflated in front of his eyes.

"Sansa, my little flame, please look at me," Rhaegar softly spoke as he gently lifted her downturned face. When he looked at her eyes, he was saddened to see her public facade of polite smiles and courtesy - the armor she wore when she first arrived at their home.

"Jon came to me because he could not find a gift for you that matched his love for you... Don't shake your head... It is true. He wanted to give you something that is as special as you are to him. The words of the poem came from words he used to describe his feelings for you," Rhaegar seriously said, without any air of silliness or amusement. He wanted to impress upon his little flame the love his son had for her.

Rhaegar could see her mind considering his words, even though her heart was still disappointed. Sansa nodded and quickly hurried to her harp to begin their lessons. While she still smiled as they sang and played music together, he was saddened to see the smiles not reach her eyes.

He stopped playing and stayed her hand from continuing the song. Rhaegar could not bear to see her sad like she was when she first arrived, especially when he may have unknowingly caused her any pain.

"Little flame, there was not meant to be any deception nor any foul play. Those words he spoke to you came from his heart, from the way I see his eyes alit when you enter the room, the smiles on his face as you speak and sing... You have made him very happy."

"It is just that...," Sansa began and looked down. "I told myself to let go of those fantasies of gallant knights, gentle ladies, and romantic songs of old when it came to my marriage - for I knew that Jon did not believe in them and scoffed at them. He would care for me in his way, and I would be content that he was not a monster like those Old Nan told me about and do my duty as my mother and septa taught me... No, let me continue. And I did that at the beginning, and I tried hard to be who I thought he wanted, someone more like my sister Arya, who is better suited for him. I took up riding with him even though I did not like it."

"Sansa, he does not want you to be someone you are not. He cares for you because you are you, not someone else."

"Aye, he told me that as he caught me crying after a particularly painful day of riding. He wanted me to do what I enjoyed, not what I thought he enjoyed. And a-a-and I fell in love with him," Sansa cried, tears streaming down her face.

Rhaegar did not understand. His good daughter loved his son, and Jon adored and worshipped her. What was the problem?

"I-I-I do not deserve him... Last night I was so happy that he acted like the gallant knights in the songs I love, those that spoke flowery words of love. I wanted him to be something he is not."

"And he wanted to be and was happy to be that knight in shining armor for you, his love, his beautiful lady wife, whereas neither you nor frankly he wanted you to be a fierce sword wielding, horse riding warrior like his mother or your sister. It takes a very patient and special man to love a wild, almost feral, wolf," Rhaegar said as he wagged his eyebrows at the end.

Sansa rolled her eyes at his silliness, but she was still not convinced.

"I want you to think of that moment he read those words, those lyrics. Do not say anything but think to yourself. What made your heart sing? Were they the beautiful words written by the most talented man? If someone else were to say the same to you, would your heart still melt? Or was it because Jon was saying them and how he said them? Or was it what he told you afterwards?" Rhaegar asked.

As he spoke, Sansa's eyes twinkled once more and her dazzling smile widen.

"Or what he did afterwards?" he asked cheekily, trying to dodge her tiny fists.

"Rhaegar!!!" She blushed and huffed. Ladies just do not divulge such things, and especially to their good fathers about their sons! Rhaegar grabbed her fists and hugged her as they both giggled in delight.

"Little Flame, I think you knew or suspected all along but it is truly lovely to hear those three little words - don't you think?"

Smiling brightly, she nodded in agreement.

"So, I think our next song we write should be about rainbows. And it will be for all lovers - new shiny couples like you and Jon and just as brilliant, burnished bright, couples like myself and Lyanna."

"Why rainbows?" she asked curiously.

"Because they are magical and ephemeral and they remind me of your beautiful smile now after all of those tears. Look, you made my tunic all wet... So you start the first lyric once I strum a tune," Rhaegar said.

Swaying to the lilting tune he played, Sansa sang, "Somewhere over the rainbow... Blue birds fly."

And Rhaegar smiled at her and sang, "And the dreams that you dreamed of... Dreams really do come true."

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Naerys - quite fluffy silliness with a touch of tears and epiphanies.
> 
> The song lyrics are from "Over the Rainbow" (often referred to as "Somewhere over the Rainbow") - music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by E.Y. Harburg. When I wrote this chapter, I was hearing the version of this song that was sung by Israel Kamakawiwoʻole.


	4. Isn't she lovely?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned is suspicious of Prince Rhaegar's closeness to Sansa. 
> 
> This chapter happens right after the first chapter when Rhaegar initially crowns Sansa as his Queen of Love and Beauty.

Ev'ry time Ned saw her long auburn hair, he saw his long silver locks seemingly intertwined with hers and her shining blue eyes looking affectionately into his darkened violet colored eyes. The King was always with her, joyfully singing together, dancing merrily, and giggling in some alcove. That giggle of hers followed by his low chuckles. Ned knew what those low chuckles signified, what the King's attentions meant, him wearing the lavishly embroidered robes (he suspected that they were her delicate work), her wearing a large dragon pendant nestled against the deep valley between her full breasts, a gift the King gave her during her betrothal ceremony. That fiend effectively marked her as his property even though Sansa was married to his son, and he married to Sansa's aunt, Ned's own sister!

Perhaps the King and his son shared Sansa - that made Ned shudder, and he almost became sick at the thought. It was what poor Robert said - those sick Targaryens. Robert saw truly, and Lyanna, Ned could not even think of her and her betrayal of his friend. His daughter was nothing like his sister - Sansa was bright, pure and innocent, much too delicate for the North, not like his feral and passionate sister who run off with the King.

The Court apparently knew, not looking askance at his scandalous parading of his sweet girl, his innocent and pure daughter who was corrupted by this man whose own children were openly kissing and groping each other. This Court thought nothing of it - indeed, another pretty young lady was vying for the King's attentions. Unlike his daughter who was chastely dressed in Northern dresses, the summer Rose princess was practically in her small clothes. Yet the King had only eyes it seemed for his girl - his face alit whenever she graciously entered the room.

Scowling, Ned knew how he looked - they thought he was jealous of the closeness between his daughter and her good father. While it was true that they did not speak easily, Sansa knew of his love for her. They may be different as he told Arya before, ' _different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both_ ' their hearts. 

And that spectacle when the King sang that song while looking at his daughter, that still enraged him as he remembered her blushing bright red as the King crowned her with flowers. Ned did not believe that it was a trick on his sister - he was no fool. That man sought to steal another Stark princess, to pluck another winter rose.

Ned requested a private audience with the King to confront him on his unseemly behavior towards Sansa. The King granted his request and agreed to meet with him in two days hence. He stewed during the two days, thinking of all the things he wanted to say about his sister that he did not say before and all the ways Rhaegar was shaming Sansa and House Stark.

When finally the time of the meeting arrived, Ned did not expect the large installation of artwork from charcoal drawings, watercolor paintings, ceramics, woven textiles, and small book of poems and songs. The King was still running around, making small adjustments to each piece - he wanted everything to be displayed "just so."

When Rhaegar noticed that Ned was silently looking at the display, he laughed nervously and began, "As a father, I understand your worry for your daughter being so far away from her home, a home she loves as you can see."

The King dramatically waved his arms. Each piece depicted something from the North - a painting of the snow with a thick dark line separating the blizzard white sky from the white frozen ground, charcoal drawing of Winterfell, dark grey velvet dress embroidered with racing dire wolves, tapestries depicting the heart tree with leaves and sap as red as his Sansa's hair and the white bark as glowing as her skin. They were not all perfect, nor all beautiful especially the snowflake painted ceramic bowl that was lopsided, but they spoke to his heart. That she did not forget the North, that the South had not supplanted itself in her heart, that she did not forget who she was, Sansa from the North.

"The first few months were difficult - the South being different from the North... But she has adapted and as you can see, she is flourishing here and well loved. My children adore her, and my youngest, her husband, worships her, thinking that she practically walks on air."

Ned could not take his eyes at the small but quite ornate tapestries. They were so detailed - each embroidered direwolf was easily identifiable. Nymeria even looked like she was going to jump out of the tapestry, but what drew his eyes were the small tapestries of hands. He touched it softly, looking at her detailed work in awe. He felt the King's warm body behind him.

"Ahhh, that is the most exquisite work! Your Sansa has such talent. She would want you to have this."

His hand traced the embroidered fingers, short clipped nails, and long scar on the palm that exactly matched the fingers, nails and scar on his hands.

"My hands," he gasped.

"Yes, they are yours... Good, honest hands she called them."

There were also so many charcoal drawings of his hands. His hand holding his sword. His hand touching his wife's hair. His hand on the shoulder of one of the boys. His hand ruffling Arya's hair. His hands with its palms up, likely in frustration over antics of Rickon or Arya or both.

"My girl..." Ned breathed.

"She loves you. _Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful? Isn't she precious?_ " Rhaegar crooned the last three questions and then started to hum as he swayed to the tune.

Ned slowly nodded. He thought that she did but to see her loving depictions of his hands, it moved him to tears.

"Your daughter has oft reminded me that I also have hands and that are some things I should do myself, not delegate to others. She would recount all of your sayings," the King chuckled ruefully. "I confess that I am far from the man that you are. She respects you so much."

Ned looked at the King who was dressed in the finest silk shirt and the tightest black leather pants embroidered with red flames licking its sides. He looked down at his own simple outfit. It was easy to make such quick judgement of this man, thinking him as some frivolous fool, but Rhaegar was much more than what he appeared. The King was a father, a good man who cared for his precious girl. 

Ned shook his head, ashamed of his earlier thoughts of Rhaegar as a lecher.

"I know why you wanted to meet with me. It is true - I love your daughter... as a father loves his daughter. She is my son's beloved."

The King walked him to the last piece, a water color painting of a dragon whose tail was protectively around the sweetest looking direwolf.

"Lady," Ned whispered.

"Sansa and my son, the Dragon. Like his father, he does not share," Rhaegar spoke without any hint of mirth in his voice. "And like her father, Sansa is honorable - she is loyal to my son."

Ned heard his daughter's giggles again, but this time they were not filled with innocent glee like when she was with Rhaegar, but instead something more knowing. Ned looked out of the window and saw his good son embracing his daughter, and he quickly turned around when Jon kissed her, muffling her giggles.

"Thank you," Ned quietly said as he held Rhaegar's hands in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for a shipping challenge but I then decided not to submit because I realize the relationship I want to highlight is the relationship between a father and a daughter, one of the central themes in my writing, not the relationship between lovers. I have a complicated relationship with my late father. And I just wish for more (time, understanding, etc.).
> 
> The moon/sun quote in italics is from GRRM and the italicized "Isn't she lovely..." lyrics are from Steve Wonder's ode to his newborn daughter.


End file.
